Thorns

23 - Whitney

Whitney

God! I felt like I'd been hit by a car. Over and over again. My head was thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis big, and my body was aching. Still, I was warm, and my pillow was way comfy. I opened my eyes and saw I was lying on a bathroom floor. The light was too bright, and I groaned as I sat down.

Rai was sleeping, his lap was my pillow. He looked like hell. Had circles around his eyes, and smelled like puke and beer and Tequila. Ugh!

Wait.

I was smelling waaaaaay worse. Ugh! Gross!

I had a jacket on. A black leather jacket, way too big for me. I knew that jacket, it was Rai's. Did he spend the entire night making sure I would be ok? Damn... Did he?

I saw my black clutch next to him, and a whole lot of glucose stripes lying on the floor, all with a tiny drop of blood. He had stayed the entire night making sure I wouldn't be sick.

I looked at his face again, and now the circles around his eyes and the tired look on his gorgeous face made sense. That and the puke stains on his cute shirt.

"Ugh... You poor thing..." I smiled at his shirt.

He must've been disgusted by me, throwing up and needing to eat every two hours. That and my drunken babbling. Shit... I hate when people have to take care of me... I don't need help. I'm strong enough to take care of things by myself.

"Cryin' ain't a sign of weakness, but one of bein' strong for too long."

Did I cry?! Oh no! Shit. Shit. Shit!

"You can be strong tomorrow."

I looked up at him again. He looked awful, tired and like he had had a terrible night. Still, the bad boy, gang member, drug dealer and burglar had stayed, taking care of me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. This was the... I didn't even know how many times he had helped me already, and he always shrugged and just kept going. Like he didn't care. But he did care... didn't he? If he didn't, why would he stay and take care of me, yet again? Guilt? Hardly. This guy's a gang member. He did despicable things to people and didn't give a shit. So... did he care about me?

I got up, shaking my head so I wouldn't go there. When I looked at myself in the mirror I almost yelled. Goddamn! I looked like a girl in a horror movie. My mascara was smudge way down my cheeks – yeah, you did cry, honey -, my soft pink lipstick was already gone, and my hair looked like a birds' nest. I found a scrunchy in my clutch and made a bun with my hair. Better. I didn't have any make-up cleaners, so I had to wash my face with what I had: water and a towel.

I heard some Spanish moaning and cursing and saw Rai getting up. He looked dreadful, and I found myself smiling. He had stayed... He had stayed with me...

Oh, geez, STOP! Don't think about it! Just say 'Thank you' and go!

"Good morning" I smiled; the muscles in my face just couldn't stop smiling.

"Maybe for you." He moaned, stretching, and I saw his perfect abs show from under his dirty shirt; then he looked at me, deep brown eyes focused and worried "You ok?"

"A little headache, nothing much." I assured him, as I cleaned my face in the towel "You look worse, I assure you."

"Yeah, well... I got puked on, cried on, blooded on... Want me to keep goin'?" He asked, with a grunt.

"Sorry about that." I mumbled, swallowing hard "I, huh... yeah, sorry."

"Don't sweat it." He moaned, stretching again "Damn! This floor sucks! Have you eaten?"